


The Fight in the Dog

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's probably not a joke anymore when Brandon puts <i>large dog bed</i> into Amazon's search field and buys one of the ones on the first page of results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fight in the Dog

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning/Enticement:** Puppy play. Fully consensual but not explicitly negotiated.
> 
> Thanks to Lake and ninja_orange for encouragement and ideas. Title from Mark Twain: "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog."

Brandon shoves Shawsy off of him. He can't take all of Saader's money with Shawsy running into him. "Down, mutt."

It works, for long enough that Brandon bluffs Saader into calling his raise. It's as he's raking the cash across the coffee table that Shawsy pounces onto him, sending coins across the floor.

"Bad dog," Brandon says. He shoves Shawsy onto the floor. "Sit. Stay."

It's still a joke then, even when Shawsy settles down on the floor next to him for a while.

*

Shawsy's bouncing around the room, annoying Tazer, getting in Duncs' way. Brandon's an enforcer, and usually that means the other team, but sometimes it means his team. He gets up, intercepts Shawsy in the middle of the room, and grabs him by the back of his neck.

"Enough, mutt." He shakes Shawsy. "Settle down or I'm going to start handing out rolled up newspapers."

Shawsy bares his teeth at him.

Brandon shakes Shawsy again. "Enough. Sit the fuck down." He shoves Shawsy toward his stall. Shawsy doesn't really settle, but he stops wandering all over the room.

*

Shawsy comes over to play video games, which gets physical, as Brandon knew it would. He doesn't really mind; tussling with Shawsy is as good a way to spend his afternoon as any.

And then Shawsy bites his arm, not hard, but with teeth.

"Oh, no," Brandon says. He gets his hand over Shawsy's mouth, fingers across Shawsy's nose, and pushes him away. "Bad, bad dog."

Shawsy growls from behind Brandon's hand.

Brandon uses the hand to shove Shawsy down and away. He pushes hard enough and Shawsy's just off-balance enough that it sends Shawsy to the floor. He catches himself, hands and knees against the carpet.

He seems fine, so Brandon says, "That's what happens to bad dogs."

Shawsy looks up at him, sits back on his heels with his hands still on the floor.

It lasts for a really long moment.

*

There are a lot of people in Tazer's living room. More of them than chairs. Brandon has a corner of the couch because that enforcer thing helps him out. Shawsy does not, and after Kaner pushes him away a fourth time, Brandon whistles at him.

"Mutt, come here and sit down."

Kaner shoots Brandon a relieved smile when it works to get Shawsy to cross the room and sit on the floor next to Brandon.

Shawsy leans against Brandon's leg for a moment before he tries to pull away. Brandon stops him with a hand on top of his head, and when Shawsy settles down, Brandon runs his hand over Shawsy's hair, and again when Shawsy makes a pleased little noise.

*

Brandon lets out a frustrated noise just short of a growl. "Sit, already," he says to Shawsy, who seems bound and determined to get in the way of Brandon making them something to eat.

Instead of going around the counter and sitting in a chair, like Brandon meant, Shawsy drops to the floor, sitting on his knees with his hands on the floor on either side of them. It's sitting at least, and Brandon considers him for a moment, still kind of in the way, but less so than what he was doing before.

Brandon picks up a strawberry he was going to throw into their smoothies. "Good dogs get treats," he says.

He doesn't necessarily mean for Shawsy to eat it out of his hand, but that's what happens. Brandon's still staring at him when Shawsy swallows the strawberry, and Shawsy leans forward, dropping his gaze, and licks his hand.

"Gross!" Brandon says. "Bad dog."

He can see the shadow of the smirk on Shawsy's face as he tries to lick Brandon again. So much for Shawsy staying out of the way.

*

It's probably not a joke anymore when Brandon puts _large dog bed_ into Amazon's search field and buys one of the ones on the first page of results. He tries to tell himself it is, but a joke wouldn't account for the way he feels breathless when UPS drops off the box.

Shawsy spends all evening two weeks later getting in everyone's way, and shoves his shoulder into Brandon's when they leave the bar. "Can I crash with you? My place is too far away."

It's maybe five minutes farther, and they're all taking cabs, so it's not even like he has to drive it.

"Yeah, sure," Brandon says. If he doesn't, he's going to have to hear about it later from Shawsy, and from anyone else Shawsy mouths off to about it.

Shawsy strips down to his underwear in Brandon's bedroom and starts to faceplant onto the bed.

"Uh-uh," Brandon says. "Bad dogs don't get to sleep in my bed."

Shawsy turns and stares at him, mouth open and nothing coming out.

"You have your own bed," Brandon says, and he points at the dog bed he took out of the packaging and put in the corner of the room to air out. "Go, lie down." He doesn't know what he's doing.

Shawsy whines at him, drops to the ground, and fucking crawls over to the dog bed. He turns around in it a couple of times, shuffling in circles on his hands and knees, before he lies down. It's big, for a dog bed, but he has to curl up to fit in it.

Everything in Brandon's chest goes tight, he gets half hard, and Jesus fuck, this is so not a joke anymore.

*

Brandon wakes up in the morning because Shawsy is licking his face. Shawsy's morning breath is a good substitute for dog breath.

"Okay," Brandon says, pushing Shawsy's face away. "I'm awake." He opens his eyes. Shawsy has stopped licking him, but he's still right there in Brandon's face, crouched over him on all fours. He looks okay, but Brandon runs his hands down Shawsy's back to make sure.

"You good, boy?" Brandon rubs up and down Shawsy's back. "Not too stiff from sleeping in your bed?"

Shawsy wriggles under Brandon's attention. His mouth drops open and his eyes slide halfway shut.

Brandon pulls Shawsy down onto him and keeps petting him until his alarm goes off and he has to get out of bed.

*

"You want a snack?" Brandon asks when Shawsy comes over to hang out. He doesn't wait for an answer, just goes straight into the kitchen. He had to go online to find them, but he has a pair of bowls that say, "Yes, I am a mutt! What of it?" that he's washed and has waiting on the counter.

He doesn't look at Shawsy while he fills one of them with water. He's still pouring a couple of handfuls of Chex Mix into the other one when something bumps into his thigh. He looks down. It's Shawsy, on his hands and knees, nosing at Brandon's thigh and then looking up at him with an impatient, pleading look.

Brandon reaches down to pet his hair. "Hang on. I'm getting you something."

Shawsy whines at him and doesn't settle down one bit until Brandon puts his food and water dishes down on the floor.

Shawsy doesn't even hesitate to put his face in the water bowl - he makes a mess of it, spilling water everywhere; Brandon's going to have to buy a mat to put under it - and then the food bowl, crunching down on Chex Mix with total attention. He makes less of a mess with that, and he doesn't eat it all.

Brandon can't take his eyes off of Shawsy. He's half hard when he crouches down on the floor to rub behind Shawsy's ears and say, "Good boy," when he's done.

*

Shawsy gets bored with COD faster than anyone Brandon has ever known. He throws down his controller and juts his chin up as he looks over at Brandon.

"Calm down, mutt," Brandon says. "I'm going to finish this level." He doesn't really expect Shawsy to wait patiently, and sure enough, thirty seconds later, Shawsy is on his hands and knees on the floor, whining at Brandon and nosing at his legs.

Shawsy's insistence on attention is too distracting for Brandon to make it to the end of the level. He tosses the controller down, turns off the TV, and looks down at Shawsy.

"Okay, what?"

Shawsy looks at him expectantly and wiggles like he'd be wagging his tail if he had one.

Brandon rubs Shawsy's hair and down to his shoulders. Shawsy wants to play, so they'll play. His apartment isn't that big, but if he moves the coffee table out of the way so Shawsy can't hurt himself, they can play catch if he can come up with something to throw.

Shawsy follows him closely, almost getting in his way as he moves the coffee table and then goes into his room. Balled up socks are going to have to do until he can get Shawsy a real toy he can bite down on without hurting himself.

He holds up the socks for Shawsy to see when they get to the living room, and then lobs them across the room. "Go, fetch!"

Shawsy does, skittering across the floor, picking up the socks with his mouth, bringing them back to Brandon.

Brandon has to clear his throat before he can say, "Good boy," and throw the socks for Shawsy again. He doesn't reach down to adjust himself even though he's hard.

*

Shawsy bounces around the room chattering at anyone who will listen, and several people who won't. Brandon can't hear what he says to Kaner, but he can tell from the intonation that it's a question. Kaner's patient with Shawsy for a couple of minutes, but even Kaner has his limits

Brandon crosses the room before it can get worse than Kaner giving Shawsy annoyed looks and telling him to be quiet.

"What are you doing, mutt?" Brandon hooks Shawsy by his collar, fingers slipping between Shawsy's shirt and the back of his neck, closing over the line made by his tie. It's not as good as a real dog collar would be.

Brandon takes a sharp breath. He shakes Shawsy a little, tugging the knot of his tie against his throat and giving himself a moment when he doesn't have to speak.

"Enough yipping at Kaner's heels," Brandon says.

Shawsy turns his head just far enough to look at Brandon, the kind of look like he'd be on his hands and knees if they were alone.

Brandon drops Shawsy's collar and shoves at his shoulder instead. "Let's get out of here."

*

It's not always like that. Sometimes Shawsy comes over and they chirp each other about their Mario Kart skills. Brandon makes smoothies or Shawsy brings beer. They watch a series of bad and then worse action movies on Netflix.

Sometimes they go out with the boys and Brandon doesn't see Shawsy at all, flirts with girls at the bar or listens in on Sharpy's smirking comments while Shawsy drinks with Kaner. Sometimes Shawsy's well-behaved in the locker room, still enthusiastic and energetic as hell, but not getting on anyone's nerves.

It's a relief, really. As much as Brandon's adjusting to the fact that he sports a boner every time Shawsy crawls around on his floor, he still wants the other Shawsy around. And the other Brandon, for that matter.

*

Brandon lets Shawsy in and sits down on the couch while he lets Shawsy decide what he wants to be like today. He's not all that surprised when Shawsy gets on his hands and knees. He's also not surprised when he gets hard watching Shawsy crawl around the room poking his nose into the entertainment center, the bookshelves, the half-open door to Brandon's bedroom.

Shawsy finishes his circuit of the room and comes over to stop next to Brandon, resting his chin on Brandon's knee.

"Good boy," Brandon says, and he rubs Shawsy's head.

Shawsy tips his head down and noses at Brandon's thigh, and when Brandon doesn't stop him, he keeps going, all the way up Brandon's leg until he's pressing his face against Brandon's dick.

Brandon's hands go slack on the back of Shawsy's head.

Shawsy tugs at Brandon's waistband with his teeth.

Brandon goes blind with want for a moment before he gets himself together and gets his jeans and boxer briefs down to his thighs.

It's not like any blow job he's ever had. Shawsy doesn't so much suck as he licks, all over Brandon's thighs, his balls, his cock. He licks the head of Brandon's cock more when he starts to spill precome, and Brandon holds onto his cock, stroking it a little and holding it in place for Shawsy. He comes all over his own fist and Shawsy's lips.

Shawsy licks it all up, then puts his hands on the couch on either side of Brandon's hips and rubs his cock against his leg.

"Wait, wait," Brandon says, pushing Shawsy back despite his whine. Brandon kicks his pants all the way off, gets Shawsy's down to his knees, and then pulls Shawsy back in to let him hump against his leg until he comes.

Shawsy takes his hands off the couch after, gets back on the floor, and licks Brandon's leg clean.

"Good boy," Brandon gasps. He bends over to rub behind Shawsy's ears. "Good boy."

*

Brandon doesn't always know what he's going to get when he opens his door to Shawsy, but Shawsy pushing into him and taking a kiss like it's his right is a new option.

He kisses back, because of course he does. It's Shawsy, and for all that Brandon's supposed to be the one in charge when Shawsy's being the other Shawsy, it's still all about giving Shawsy what he wants.

"You should fuck me," Shawsy says after a minute of making out hard enough to steal Brandon's breath.

"Doggie style?" Brandon asks.

Shawsy cocks his head to one side, thinking about it, then says, "Not this time," so Brandon lays him out on his back in his bed, works him open with slow fingers and a lot of lube, Shawsy saying filthy things all the while, like Brandon's own personalized porn track.

Shawsy doesn't stop until he comes, and then they're both quiet and drowsy for a couple of minutes.

Brandon makes food, basic sandwiches they eat standing over the kitchen counter.

"Are we going to talk about any of this?" Brandon asks.

Shawsy looks him dead in the eye and then very deliberately barks.

*

"I'm going to put you on a collar and leash," Brandon mutters when Shawsy won't stop tearing around his apartment. "With tags," he says a little louder, "so you can be returned to your proper owner if you run off."

Shawsy stops racing around the apartment and flops over on his back next to Brandon. He took off his clothes when he came in, so there's nothing to keep Brandon from seeing how hard he is.

Brandon goes for his belly first, rubbing his hands up and down, up to Shawsy's chest. He keeps one hand doing that and uses the other to jerk Shawsy off slow and steady. Shawsy pants his way through it, mouth open and tongue hanging halfway out of it, and then licks at his come on Brandon's hand and pesters his way into Brandon's pants after.

*

Brandon buys the collar on the internet, too many questions if he runs into someone who recognizes him buying it in a store. The tag has "Mutt" on one side and "If found, return to Brandon." on the other. While Shawsy's stripping inside the door, Brandon gets the collar out of his closet. He crouches down next to Shawsy and buckles it around his neck.

Shawsy goes completely still for a moment. Then he bowls Brandon over in his excitement and licks all over his face.

Brandon pushes Shawsy's face away, laughing, but doesn't bother doing it again when Shawsy just comes right back at him with his tongue. He loops his arms around Shawsy and rubs his back, up and down his sides, and can't help grinning up at Shawsy and flicking the tag on his collar.

*

It's one of those nights when they go out and Brandon barely sees Shawsy, each of them sticking with different groups in the bar. Shawsy comes home with him, though, and strips inside the door.

Brandon gets Shawsy's collar out and buckles it on almost without thinking about it. He stays crouched in front of Shawsy and puts his arms around Shawsy's shoulders. "I really want to fuck you right now." He probably wouldn't have said it if he weren't a little bit drunk, but he would've thought it.

Shawsy pants at him, and makes a half-human pleading noise.

Brandon kisses him on the nose and gets up. "Go," he says, pointing at the bedroom. "My bed."

He follows behind slower, stripping as he goes. Shawsy's already on all fours on Brandon's bed when he gets there.

Brandon works him open with enough lube to make it comfortable for both of them, and then he mounts Shawsy, hands and knees outside of Shawsy's on the bed, chest flat against Shawsy's back, teeth closing over the back of Shawsy's neck above his collar.

Shawsy makes noise, growls and whines and tiny yipping barks, while Brandon fucks him in short, rolling thrusts that keep him close to Shawsy.

Brandon gets Shawsy off before he comes, and he stays over Shawsy as long as he can before he has to pull out and take off the condom.

Brandon lies down on his back, and Shawsy shuffles around on his hands and knees until he can lick Brandon's hand and cock clean. Brandon can't go again, but he wants to.

Shawsy whines at him, and Brandon scratches behind his ears. "Come on, mutt. Lie down. Good dogs get to share the bed."

*

Shawsy starts stripping when Brandon lets him in, so Brandon goes to get his collar, and also the soft enough for human teeth chew toy he grabbed from a display rack at the grocery store. When he comes back with those, Shawsy isn't on his hands and knees yet. He's bent over, strapping knee pads around his legs.

Brandon waits until he's done and has dropped to the floor before he goes over to put Shawsy's collar on. He probably should have thought about that. His only excuse is that he's seen Shawsy on his knees enough that he forgot that his body isn't actually built for that.

"Good boy," he tells Shawsy. "Good boy taking care of yourself." He kisses Shawsy's forehead, getting a pleased wriggle out of him.

Brandon stands up. "I got you something." He holds out the chew toy and lets Shawsy sniff at it. Shawsy, predictably, clamps his teeth around it and tries to pull it out of Brandon's hand.

Brandon pulls back, tussling with him for a bit before he lets Shawsy take it.

*

Brandon thinks it's one of those nights when they hang out with different groups at the bar, so he's in the middle of a group of some of the boys and a bunch of girls they've been buying drinks for. He's talking to this one girl, a sweet little brunette who keeps looking at him from under her eyelashes, when Shawsy puts himself between them and practically bares his teeth at the girl.

Both Brandon and the girl take a step back, then Brandon steps forward and hooks a hand around Shawsy's shoulder. "Sorry," he says to the girl. "My friend is a little strange."

Shawsy turns his look on Brandon without turning completely away from the girl.

The girl takes another step back and edges around toward the other side of the group. They're getting enough weird looks now that Brandon clamps his hand around the back of Shawsy's neck and says, "Outside."

Brandon catches Duncs looking at him with raised eyebrows, but he shakes his head; he's got this.

He lets go of Shawsy once they're outside, and they walk halfway down the block where they're less likely to be overheard by people smoking on the sidewalk.

Brandon crosses his arms over his chest and fixes Shawsy with a look. "You want to explain that?"

Shawsy stares back at him, and for a moment, Brandon thinks he's just going to get a bark out of him. "No more girls," Shawsy says instead.

Brandon drops his arms. That was not what he was expecting. "I was just talking to her," he says.

"No more girls," Shawsy says, jaw tight. "No more anybody."

It's not like there's anybody else Brandon wants who could give him what Shawsy does. "Okay," he says. "No more girls. Just you."

Shawsy nods jerkily. "And I want- When we're- In your bed- With my collar-"

Brandon waits for him to finish a sentence.

"I want you to come in me," Shawsy finally says.

Brandon goes from zero to hard in nothing flat. Letting Shawsy lick up his come wasn't really all that safe, but what he's talking about now is a whole other kind of trust and commitment.

Brandon has to clear his throat twice before he can give Shawsy an answer. "We'll get tested," he says, "and then I will."

Shawsy kind of slumps out of his confrontational posture and looks up at Brandon with one of his pleased puppy looks.

Brandon grips the back of Shawsy's neck and shakes him. "I'd kiss you right now if we weren't in public." He turns Shawsy around. "Come on, mutt. You can be my guard dog and warn the girls off."

Shawsy doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the night.


End file.
